


Lost in Transit

by ZeraCyfr



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Timescale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Injury, Injury Recovery, Origin Story, Side Story, Story Arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeraCyfr/pseuds/ZeraCyfr
Summary: Another little side story running adjacent with (and likely at times ahead of) Bad Reputation. Got to writing this one when I hit a bit of a block shoring up BR's backlog. Still a bit stuck on that front, but I've got a few weeks to hurdle that stopping point, so. Gonna keep hashing this out in the meantime.





	1. Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Another little side story running adjacent with (and likely at times ahead of) Bad Reputation. Got to writing this one when I hit a bit of a block shoring up BR's backlog. Still a bit stuck on that front, but I've got a few weeks to hurdle that stopping point, so. Gonna keep hashing this out in the meantime.

Negotiations were always a touchy thing. Especially with the Cabal. _Especially_ with a Cabal arms dealer, when you were much smaller, and significantly lower in station even among your own people. Who also had a bounty on his head What Sariisks really didn’t need were further complications, especially not with the goods on the line with this deal.

Unfortunately, further complications tend to crop up whether or not you need them to.

Before the Brachus’s body had even hit the ground, the arc bolt lancing through both sides of his helmet like molten iron through ice, Sariisks had kicked on his camo. He’d been on edge while he was talking, thanks to not only the Ma’sor, but his two bodyguards who’d not taken their guns off him the entire time. Expecting to be blamed if anything went south, he’d rather be blamed by someone who would at least have the decency to talk with him before tearing his arms off. Even as he shimmered out of view, he was on the move. It was sloppy - any observer could’ve followed his direction of movement through the half-activated stealth - but it was his best chance of escaping the bodyguards, by his estimation.

He couldn’t account for the two bursts of gunfire in his plans, however.

Hearing the shots, and the heavy weight of two more falling bodies, the Marauder glanced back, saw the casualties. Swore under his breath in Eliksni, and got to running faster, dropping to all-sixes for just a little bit more speed as he keyed into his transmitter, sending the ping for emergency extraction even as he tried to hail his Captain on the comms.

「Captain, the trade was interrupted! Snipers took out the Brachus, I escaped before they could get me too, but-」  
 _「Understood, Sariisks. Clear comms, I’m bringing the skiff around.」_

Unable to understand how she was so calm sounding, Sariisks killed his transponder, leaving only the telltale IFF ping they’d need to locate him for transmat, as he scuttled towards the Vex fortress, the enormous Pyramidion. Not someplace he’d willingly approach, but at least the Vex didn’t care who was affiliated with who. If they weren’t a Vex, they got shot. And he was willing to play the odds that, from the use of kinetic weaponry, the “Guardians” had been responsible. They’d keep the Vex occupied much longer and more effectively than he could, if they showed their faces searching for him. Not that the Vex were, really, the least of his worries at this point.

_「... Sariisks, the Archon will be requiring your presence when you return.」_

Oh... oh no.

「K-... Does Karaskis know already?」  
 _「If he found out, it wasn’t from me. He was scant with his details... I wish you luck, Sariisks.」_

He’d been fairly lucky already, he reflected. Captain Ekaviis was one of the more understanding. Knew there were outliers, unforseen circumstances. Snipers, for instance. But it didn’t change the command hers fell under. The Archon Priest Karaskis was not so kind. Not understanding. Karaskis understood only three things: Technology, the sanctity of the Servitor, and that his orders could not fail - they could only be disobeyed. He would’ve dreaded his return regardless, thanks to that outcome, but now... 

Sariisks found himself almost wishing he could run all over again as the skiff hovered in overhead, and the transmat took him up.

* * *

Flanked on either side by Ekaviis and one of her Vandals, a Fallen by the name of Nekavik, Sariisks marched obediently to the Archon’s chambers. He was not in shackles, for which he counted his blessings, but he wasn’t going to be able to escape whatever fate awaited him at the end of that hallway. Quietly, he murmured a prayer to the Great Machine under his breath. Prayed whatever end came for him would be quick. A prayer he’d been making a lot as of late.

「Did you see the sniper, Sariisks?」Looking back at his Captain, Sariisks shook his head.「I didn’t... but I think there was more than one... and I think they were Guardians.」  
「You didn’t see the sniper... but you think there was more than one, and they were Guardians? I hope you have a very good story to go with that, or the Archon will never buy it.」Fidgeting with his hands for a moment, Sariisks eventually swallowed the bundle of nerves in his throat and explained himself.「The Brachus went down with a single shot to the head... arc lance. Could have been a Wire Rifle, could have been a Guardian weapon, Linear Fusion Rifle... then his guards were shot by ballistic weaponry. Burst fire. No signs of Cabal slugs or shrapnel from one of our cannons. So... the odds seem to favor a Guardian pulse rifle.」He could see her eyes narrow, but she seemed to be thinking, over doubting. It was an expression she tended to adopt after one of her scouts returned. And unfortunately, she didn’t have time to share her thoughts.

Sliding open with a heavy _cha **chunk** ,_ the door to the Archon’s chambers opened. And almost immediately, Sariisks’ worries were replaced entirely. The Archon stood before a Prime Servitor, one he recognized had been deployed in the field. Bullet holes pockmarked its shell, ballistic in origin, along with burns, scorch marks, signs of short-circuits and unmaking. He could already tell the Guardians got to this one too. Karaskis didn’t have time to turn before Sariisks was fetching the tools he’d been assigned, withdrawing some engrams for raw materials and setting them aside as he got to work on his triage. 「Sariisks, finally... I’m glad to see you’re not dead. And that you seem to know what to do _without my instruction._ 」He could feel the holes being bored into him by the Archon’s gaze, but he didn’t stop working. 「I apologize, Archon, but it seemed time was of the-」The sudden, sharp crack of his exoskeleton under the Archon’s staff as it hit his wrist forced him to drop one of his tools, but it didn’t stop him working. 「W-with all due respect... you took me as an apprent-tice for the expert-tise I already had, Archon... I h-have only seen two Servitors survive this level of damage, and I am applying the s-same techniques I saw used there. I just wish to see it survive.」

Preparing for another sharp crack, Sariisks didn’t take his eyes off his work, but when the expected punishment didn’t come, he spared the Archon a glance. He was glowering, fuming... but returned to work himself shortly. 「We will discuss your insubordination later. And if this Servitor does not survive... you will be the one who faces the consequences. The mission, Captain?」

「A failure, sir. Snipers had eliminated the target before we arrived.」It took everything in Sariisks’ power not to gawk back at his Captain. It was one thing to wish him luck - it was another entirely to lie for the sake of keeping him alive. To an Archon Priest, of all Eliksni.「We caught sight of a team of Guardians leaving the area, but the Brachus himself seems to have been the victim of a shot from a Wire Rifle... someone after his bounty, perhaps. I’ve sent my scouts to investigate-」

「Call them back. Set them on the trail of the arms dealer’s trove, instead. I’ve no time to deal with the petty politics and squabbles of the warring mammals right now. Just get me those materials.」

He really must’ve been under a lot of pressure to get this one fixed, to be so dismissive of such failure.


	2. Impetus

Finally pulling his three good arms out of the Servitor’s innards and reaching for a plasteel panel, Sariisks let out a long, low exhale, depleted ether actually tainting the air for a moment as he started patching up the synthetic’s exterior plating. Karaskis hovered nearby, dealing with other matters but keeping a close, critical eye on the proceedings, as he had since he’d left responsibility on his apprentice’s shoulders. And the Servitor itself seemed to be perking up as Sariisks overrode the safety blocks that had tripped to cordon off damage, though he kept having to ask it to stop moving while he finished up the last of the work. Telasiks Prime, he’d learned, was its name. He’d been attached to a few of its descendant constructs in the past, and he’d made sure to thank it as quietly as he could manage.

Karaskis did not like it when he got friendly with the Servitors.

Stepping back as he finished, he was shouldered aside by the Archon, who got about inspecting his work. Rather roughly. His work had long since come to account for the Archon’s rather rigorous stress-testing, but it still made him wince all the same. It wasn’t as though the Servitor couldn’t feel it. Still, it passed muster, and it showed, a begrudging inclining of the head acknowledging as much.

「Well done, Sariisks. It’s impressive work. I’d be giving you bonus rations for it if you hadn’t gone ahead without my permission. As it is, I will consider... _'disregarding'_ your insubordination, and allow you your full ration. I’ll let Telasiks take care of that. In the meantime, Kelvik IV and Darsav VII need tuning. That’ll be your next assignment.」

Sariisks nodded wearily. He was used to not being rewarded for his work, but the lack of punishment - save for his broken arm, at least - was a welcome relief. Returning to the Servitor, the Marauder gently patted its shell, the quiet, bassy warble of reply coming with a stream of fresh Ether into his reserves... more than usual. Enough to fix his arm, and then some. There was a reason Karaskis didn’t like him getting friendly with the machines - they tended to take a liking to him. And why shouldn’t they? He’d spent most of his life repairing them, on some level or another. He was happy to do the job well, for their sake and his alike.

Didn’t make the extra Ether any less welcome, of course.

Gathering his tools and surreptitiously twisting cracked plates back into alignment so they could heal, Sariisks bit back a pained growl and made his way to the Servitors’ dwellings, making a mental note to thank Telasiks later. Assuming, that is, he could find it away from the Archon. Navigating the long halls of the base he’d called home on Earth for the past local year, give or take, the Marauder found himself reflecting on just how unfamiliar these long concrete and steel halls remained. Constructed by humans long ago for some war they’d been unable to weather, and now taken over by scavengers to use against them... What must’ve inspired them to build it? Had they not had a great Golden Age beneath the Great Machine, as, purportedly, the Eliksni had before the Whirlwind? What need could they have for such defenses?

Hissing open quietly, the doors to the Servitors’ housing pushed the thoughts from his head.

It was ironically rather lonely social work, tending to Servitors. He liked talking with all of them, save few, and save those few most of them returned the sentiment. But familiarity was frowned upon outside an Archon. And as much as he was apparently in training to be such, the social structure of the Fallen didn’t much give him room for that allowed familiarity. Atop all that, Sariisks was fairly sure he didn’t know of any Archons that were this friendly with their charges. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been promoted yet. Maybe he was too soft. And maybe, he mused, he was fine with that. Setting to work on Kelvik, the Eliksni was quick to spark a conversation, asking about its assigned unit and how they were faring. The conversation stretched out over the following hours, other Servitors occasionally pitching in as they passed by or overheard. Even when he’d finished tuning up Kelvik and moved on to repairing some worn-thin parts on Darsav, the rolling, ever-shifting exchange continued, Darsav getting in on the chatter with some gossip about the House of Kings. There were rumors floating about.

Messy rumors.

None of the Servitors knew his former house. Only that he was now with Dusk, and had the thought to convert his armor, rather than destroying it. It was always odd, with that in mind, to hear talk of his old allegiances so flippantly thrown about between them. They always seemed to assume he wouldn’t know. Then again, surely one of House Kings’ old members wouldn’t be so low on the metaphorical totem pole. It was reasoning he could at least understand, and wasn’t especially eager to correct. He’d fled the house before Dusk had officially come about for a reason, and the anonymity was appreciated. But it didn’t make it any less... peculiar to hear things he already knew. Today, however, talk slowly turned to altogether new things.

Talk of the Kell of Kings.

Rumors that he had been docked, that he had been _murdered,_ by a member of the House of Exile, and the Awoken prince, the man who’d crammed all these disparate Eliskni together, in defiance of his own people, and to their relative bane. There was no concrete view of it - the leading consensus was that he’d been murdered, and whatever remnants of the Kings remained had been turned into these... Scorn. But there were a few who’d apparently heard he’d been docked of all four of his arms, demoted to a Dreg, and left to fend for himself. Sariisks wasn’t sure which sounded worse. Either way, he excused himself once he’d finished the Servitors’ repairs, making his way back to his rather cramped quarters. 

His room was fully his own, technically, but really there was about enough room for him to curl up in a hammock that filled the room that he’d fashioned out of old house banners he’d saved from the pyres. That and a few odds and ends. A Servitor’s primary optical lens coated in Solar crystal from a Guardian attack, a large revolver he’d pilfered from one while their Ghost was reviving them, by now long since out of ammo, and a jury-rigged spear-bayonet meant to be jammed onto an Arc pike to give it an extra point stood out among them. The bayonet was rather silly, but it had made for a nice distraction while he was working on making it work, and it did make for a much more violent, penetrating current, for what little that was worth. It also made the spear even more unwieldy, so it didn’t see much use.

Pushing aside some of his spare parts and knick-knacks on the desk below his hammock, Sariisks clambered up, wrapping himself up in the smoky-smelling cloth and slowly starting to work off what was left of his armor. His leather-esque limb padding remained on even with the plating shed, however. The base he found himself calling home was on Earth. Even if it was one of thousands, it was never safe to assume the Guardians wouldn’t come a-knocking in the night. Being half-armored and almost ready to go the moment he awoke had saved his life at least once in the past. He hoped to never need to wake up that suddenly ever again, but this was the life he’d had to lead for as long as he could remember. Scavenging, killing, taking what they could to scrape by.

Pulling the frizzy cloth closer around himself, the Eliksni wondered if he’d ever be able to leave all that well and truly behind him.


	3. Heavy Payload

「Where’d you find it?」  
「Right here.」  
「... Allow me to ask more clearly - _How_ did you find it?」  
「Heard a skirmish, found a skirmish. Guardian got lifted out by their friends, left behind a perfectly good jumpship in the process.」

Sariisks stood beside, and a little behind, a Vandal by the name of Imikesh, overlooking a completely totaled jumpship. The hull was in two pieces, the engine looked as though it could detonate at any moment, and the canopy was completely shot. In more ways than one. She was right, though. It was perfect for his needs. And she knew it.

「... If you’ll help me get the pieces someplace, I’ll give you half again as many cubits of Glimmer as you asked for.」

Clicking rapidly, conveying an emotion humans would better recognize as coming with a long, low whistle, Imikess turned back to him.「That’s a fine offer, but I get the feeling that your complete lack of haggling means this place is a bit inhospitable for Fallen. Or maybe just you and I specifically.」He shook his head. 「Just need to get it hidden. Someplace I can work freely.」She paused again to think, tapping her wrists with her forefingers and glancing between him and the wreckage.「... Give me the coordinates, and let me scope it out. We’ll see if we’ve got a deal or not.」

As she vanished into the undergrowth, heading towards the location he’d given her, Sariisks moved down to pick at the wreckage, carefully avoiding the more tenuous bits of wreckage and anything that was a bit on fire, wrapping the neck of his cloak around his rebreather to help filter out the worst of the particulate and keep the vents clear. Cleaning them was more of a chore than cleaning cloth. Usually. Save that one time, with the Thrall.

He’d known Hive were gooey inside, but that had been just... ludicrous.

「Hope you’re not looting my merchandise!」

When she finally returned, Sariisks was actively going through one of the blown-out panels, patching up some cables to keep them from sparking and igniting a bigger conflagration.「I would never consider the thought. Just stabilizing it a bit. Do we have terms?」Sariisks liked Imikesh. She’d been eager to supply him with all manner of illicit goodies so long as his Glimmer was good. And given he always made sure to skim a bit extra when he needed something, his Glimmer was _always_ good. And in return, she was happy to keep his secret projects secret, even when she had to help a little with them. By now, they knew what a closed deal sounded like, and his question was more of a formality. That, and he was always happy to hear her say... 

「We’ve got fine terms.」

Tossing up a sack of sapphire cubits, Sariisks stepped back from the hulk.「I managed to salvage the drive and insulate some critical systems for transmat... It’s not perfect, but it should survive moving, however you’ve got in mind to move it.」Slowly backing away, the question building on his tongue was pushed back as a stealthed Skiff gradually dragged the wreckage off the ground, pinning it to its underside and drawing it into its active camouflage.「... Yeah, that’d do it. Thanks again, Mikeh.」

A low, raspy laugh escaped the Vandal as she waved him along, waiting until he got closer to transmat them both into the cockpit.「You still owe me for this, I had to come up with the worst excuse to get this on such short notice.」Chuffing quietly, Sariisks glanced her way as he strapped in.「Please tell me you didn’t use the ‘A Servitor’s in trouble’ excuse again.」

He could see the confirmation in the mirthful smile written in her eyes.

「I have no idea how you keep getting away with that.」  
「I don’t,」she responded flippantly, carefully lowering the ship down over the collapsed tunnel roof and adjusting her position.「I just go find the nearest Servitor and say you needed a hand and they play along.」Blinking a few times in sequence, inner then outer eyes, then inner again, Sariisks reflected on how happy he was that she knew him so well.

And how panicked it made him that she was just picking Servitors at random, apparently, for this.

Clambering into the back of the skiff and watching the wreckage slowly lowered down into the hole, Sariisks hung from one of the deploying hooks, making sure the junk heap had touched down before he stuck his head back inside.「Thanks again, really. I know I’m paying you for this, but this is above and beyond.」He could hear her laughing from the cockpit as he dropped down, catching the lip of the tunnel roof and swinging wide away from his new prize.

_「Don’t thank me yet, I’ve still gotta find a Servitor and put your name on it.」_

Resisting every urge he had to beg she find some other excuse, he shakily waved her off, before he set about the process of moving the smaller pieces out of the light. The tunnel’s collapsed section was amidst thick forest cover, but there’d been space to drop a skiff in regardless. He didn’t fancy leaving this out where just anyone could see it, and while he had a transmat system in place that could move the bigger chunks for him, he didn’t want to over-strain it, so... hand-relocating were required. And all the time spent working gave him time to think on just how he was going to get about repairing this.

One thing was for sure, sourcing the parts was going to be a nightmare.

When he returned to the barracks that night, long after the sun had set, he caved in and pulled off the padding for his chest armor. Slipping it on was easy enough, compared to some of the other pieces especially, and he needed the room to breathe. It’d been two months since he heard the rumors regarding Craask, and without an escape plan, his nerves had been nothing but on the razor’s edge. Now, however, he had framework. A starting point.

He could let himself breathe, surely, now that he’d finally made it to the starting point.


	4. Hidden Hand

Humans had the oddest way of storing their things.

Turning the deep blue dodecahedron over in two of his hands, Sariisks rummaged for a tool with a third, while the fourth, his present worst, slowly scrolled through a pilfered datapad, translation protocols messily converting Solar Common into Eliksni for him as he tried to decipher the object. Encrypted matter... Safe, compactor, and security protocol, all at the same time. He found himself wondering if the Eliksni had made such advances before the Whirlwind, and simply forgotten them. Not that it warranted much in the way of worrying. Those times were long lost and far away. Only whispered of even in his youth. He’d heard rumors that Craask had survived it all, made it this far out here.

All to get docked by some Awoken squib and a disgraced Archon.

Sighing, promptly wincing and pressing a hand to his side in consequence, he tried a few more of the steps indicated, and while the engram seemed almost ready to give up its secrets, nothing was forthcoming. Setting it down, Sariisks sighed, before he noted a syntax error in the translation. It couldn’t be as simple as a mistranslation... but, correcting it and following the ever-so-slightly shifted instructions, a bundle of high-quality plasteel from the human City’s foundries suddenly appeared on his desk.

Well. There was that mystery solved.

He knew there were more kinds of engram out there, rarer kinds. Their coloration tended to indicate the quality of the stored material or object. Silver and green were dime-a-dozen - he’d been able to work the secrets out of those for some time now, critical when scavenging from humanity. He’d seen a few blue ones for himself, the one he’d just deciphered included, and he knew his Captain kept one on her at all times. A trophy from a particularly good strike. He’d only heard rumors of the purple polyhedrals, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d heard it from a Servitor that had yet to lie to him, he’d entirely dismiss the thought of a fifth, golden tier for the rarest, most valuable items. How he longed to get his hands on one of those. One step at a time, though. This was still an only lightly encrypted example. He’d need to find some more and work his way up to reliable execution if he wanted to figure this tech out. And that wasn’t time he could afford to be spending right now. He’d heard rumors. Extant power was on the move, and the system’s balance was shifting, even amongst the Fallen. Those rumors had grown a touch more widespread, the rumors of the Kings’ dissolution. It was certainly motivation to work faster. Bundling the plasteel up, and gingerly reversing the process, he re-encrypted the matter and tucked the shape into a bag, setting back out for his secluded work site.

Ducking into stealth camo to pass by a pair of less-than-attentive Captains guarding the entrance to the compound, Sariisks scurried some distance away before letting himself drift back into the visible spectrum, hurrying to the ship’s cover.

It had been almost four months since he started work on his exit strategy. The work was slow going - he was fixing a completely totaled jumpship alone, in secrecy, with only the tools he could find and no heavy machinery - but it was going. This plasteel was the last of what he’d needed to fix the hull, having slowly bent what was left back into shape and gotten it to a position where he could patch things up. It almost looked like a proper delta-wing again. The engine had been a priority repair, quickly tuned up with parts pilfered from a similarly totaled skiff and a few test firings were promising, but he couldn’t commit to a full burn just yet. Fuel was something he couldn’t acquire quickly, and he’d been low on it to begin with. Secondary repairs were mostly done - the canopy had been replaced with plastiglass he’d formed out of Glimmer (it was a bit bluish, but he could live with that), the mangled humanoid seat with a pilot’s chair out of the aforementioned skiff, and the flight controls had been tweaked, computer modified to allow for equipment that better suited Eliksni physiology. But that was all the easy work. That was just fiddling with the computers and working with lighter bits of junk tech.

Now it was time for the hard part.

Setting down the engram and decrypting it again, the Marauder stared up at the ship, exhaling slowly and dialing up his Ether just a touch from his spare rations, feeling the strength eke into his limbs. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it’d be just enough for what he needed.

As night fell, Sariisks was sore in places he wasn’t sure he actually had, the ache of his labors compounding with light wounds from recent missions. A stray Guardian round had pierced his side two weeks prior. It was still healing, festering. The Light in the weapon confused his body. Light was good - Light was the pure lifesblood Ether could only hope to imitate at its finest, and yet, here it was punching holes in him. The wound festered, not with decay, but with indecision. Confusion. Life made hesitant by its contradicting presence. It burned with searing pain and soothing calm in the same breath. Just barely less of each, day by day. He knew he should count himself lucky that he’d survived the attack at all - Three of his crew had not been so lucky, and Telasiks III had been reduced to shards of frangible metal and ether in the wind, news he carried only reluctantly back to the Servitor’s Prime - and atop all that it had been the second Guardian attack he had survived in the span of a year.

Luck did nothing for the wound.

Creeping back into the compound would be more difficult. Sentries tended to be more watchful for new arrivals than those leaving. But he had the benefit of the cover of night. He covered his ship in a Dusk banner, lashing it to the heavier artificial stone rubble and slowly making his way back home. Exacerbations to the injury had done little for his speed, and it took him far longer than he’d have liked to return, but he managed to make it inside unnoticed.

There was very little he could do about Captain Ekaviis waiting for him at his quarters, however.

「Good of you to finally return, Sariisks.」He didn’t have time to raise his active camouflage as he rounded the corner, the Captain having spotted him before he could’ve seen her ‘round the bend. Still, she was alone. Hesitantly, the Marauder continued forwards, his back somewhat hunched. A sign of submission. He knew better than to demonstrate that kind of weakness around superiors - it was a sure a way as any to find yourself docked - but he knew full well he had no excuses for operating so riskily, especially not here.「Captain... I trust today’s sortie had a favorable outcome?」She nodded once. Slowly.「The Hive should be gone from this territory for the time being. Destroyed the Knight that was leading them. I would’ve liked to have had your expertise on tech repair to hand, admittedly, but I was under the understanding that your injury was still keeping you. How does it fare?」

Sariisks’s gaze fell to his side, gently gripping at it through the thick cloth of his torso armor. When he drew the hand away with a low hiss of pain, the telltale glow of Ether was mingling with the taint of his blood on the grey fabric.「Still festers.」

「Perhaps if you didn’t spend all your time working on that jumpship alone it would heal faster.」

It took everything the Marauder had not to pop camo and run right then, right there. No one should’ve known. Least of all Ekaviis. Imikesh should’ve been the only one with even an inkling that he wanted it to scrap for himself.「... Who told you?」She tilted her head a little as her left eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure if that half-smile was a good sign or not.「You don’t cover your tracks as well as you think, Sariisks. What is it, some personal project? An offering to the Archon? It’s a lot of work for little perceptible gain.」The benefit of the doubt was never something Sariisks felt he had earned. Especially not with Ekaviis, who had watched him stumble into the Archon’s service and promptly taken him under-wing. She’d known him as long as any who were left did... and by now she should know full well he didn’t do things without any reason.「... You’ve heard the rumors by now. I... House of Kings was formerly my house. A steward of their Servitors. Left the House in hopes of finding life elsewhere, out of the shadows. Found Dusk, and irony to go with it. To hear what has happened... I fear for this House now, too. I didn’t make it this far without being prepared.」The Captain was silent for a few minutes, simply surveying the Marauder as he stayed back, at what he hoped was safe distance.「... You have that little faith in your crew’s ability to protect you, do you?」He froze. It wasn’t what he’d _meant_... but perhaps, on some level, she wasn’t wrong about what he felt.「I couldn’t... You owe me nothing. That you might die for me reeks of disgrace, waste. If you had to throw your life to the wolves... at least choose a better cause than a frightened Falle-」

Sariisks didn’t have time to dodge the butt of the wire rifle slamming into his mask. Letting out a pained warble and falling to the deck, Sariisks quickly tried to pick himself up on the wall, only to stop as a broadsword wreathed in lancing Arc energy halted only inches from his face.「No subordinate of mine is going to be referred to as Fallen. I only pin that name to the failures. The ones who drop at the first sign of strife, who abandon their nest for their own benefit. I don’t _let_ Fallen into my crew. Only Eliksni. So that I know I can stand beside them, die beside them, for more than petty scavenging. That one day even one of us might see a better star-rise, come the morn.」She didn’t lower the broadsword for some time, but when she did, it was quickly followed by an open hand gripping under one of his arms and hefting him to his feet.「Don’t ever let me catch you using that word about _any_ of my subordinates again.」Her eyes bored holes in him with her words, her pointed intent and inclusion impossible to escape. 「Not one. Are we clear?」

Slowly, he bowed his head. Closed his eyes.

“Eia.”「Yes, Captain.」

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? ... It's me, the nerd. I had this one written ages ago, just... didn't have time to figure out how it needed edits for the longest time. It's not quite as long as some of my more recent work, but hopefully that'll change if I can get new stuff written for this one.


End file.
